


Genesis

by myoldsupernaturalaccount



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Toppy Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoldsupernaturalaccount/pseuds/myoldsupernaturalaccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam and Castiel all get drunk and things get a little...dirty.  Toppy!Cas and mild cumplay ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genesis

Dean will blame the tequila until he dies. Why else would he be squeezed onto a too-small couch, Castiel and Sam on either side of him, Sam giggling like a teenage girl while Castiel flushes from his neck to his forehead?

“I don't understand why Dean's failure to seduce this woman is so entertaining to you,” he says, brow furrowed. “Is public nudity supposed to be funny?”

Sam bites back a howl of laughter. “Yeah, it is, especially when he's only wearing a pair of pink silk—”

“Okay, who wants another round?” Dean interrupts quickly, leaning forward to pour three more shots.

“I would think that Dean unclothed would be arousing rather than amusing,” Castiel continues, ignoring Dean's attempts to change the subject. Dean chokes on his shot and Sam falls back against the couch, head thrown back in a loud guffaw. “Or am I wrong?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Sam manages to reply, wiping away a tear of laughter.

Castiel takes his shot, then looks Dean over thoughtfully. “No, it shouldn't. Dean is objectively quite attractive.”

“Except for his face.” Sam laughs like he's said something extremely witty.

Castiel leans in very close to Dean's ear. “Does alcohol always make him this strange?” he asks in something that doesn't quite qualify as a whisper. Dean's opened his mouth to confirm that when he feels the wet drag of Castiel's mouth on his neck. He whips around, and Castiel's sitting back again, blinking innocently at him. Did he imagine it? Was it the booze? It must have been the booze. He's clearly hallucinating.

Except that a moment later he feels a warm pressure on his thigh and glances down to see Castiel's hand there. The angel still isn't looking at him, instead at Sam, who's knocking back another shot around his intermittent chuckles.

“Uh, yeah, generally,” he answers shakily, and the pressure releases. Well that was weird.

“Yeah, generally, what?” Sam asks, only to startle as Castiel's hand lands on his thigh instead. Dean is definitely not imagining that.

“Generally... _your_ face,” Dean retorts. Sam doesn't laugh – he's too busy staring, perplexed, at Castiel, who seems to be smirking to himself.

“Neither of you is very clever,” Castiel observes.

“Hey, just 'cause we're not...like...omniscient doesn't mean—” Sam protests.

“You're one to talk,” Dean retorts, cutting off his brother mid-sentence. Castiel, inexplicably, chuckles, staring at Sam long enough to get him squirming with discomfort. Dean frowns, confused, at Castiel, who, when he finally looks back at him, leans in and presses a firm kiss to Dean's mouth.

Dean leaps off the couch, trips over the coffee table, and face plants on the bed before he manages to scramble back to his feet, eyes wide. “The hell was that?” he cries. Sam's also staring at Castiel, open-mouthed, the corners of his lips turned up in a disbelieving half-smile.

Castiel's answer is simply to shrug, and then scoot closer to Sam on the couch and pull him into a kiss instead. Sam's eyes fly open and he almost falls over the arm of the couch. “Wh-what?” he gasps. “But you just...” He stares at Dean, nearly as perplexed as he is.

The angel grabs the bottle of tequila and drains the remaining quarter of it while the brothers look on in abject confusion. “I,” he says slowly, hoarsely, placing the bottle carefully back on the table and staring at it, “would like to engage in carnal relations with you.”

“Who, the tequila?” Dean asks, trying for levity because it's easier than _holy shit, Castiel just kissed me_.

Sam shoots a disapproving look at Dean, although it's somewhat reduced in effectiveness due to the slight unfocused look in his eyes from the tequila. “Which one of us d'you mean?” he questions.

“Yes,” Castiel answers.

“That's not an answer,” Sam points out. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“I don't see the need to choose between you,” he says sharply. “You're both here, aren't you?”

Dean gapes for a moment, then sinks to a seat on the edge of the bed as he realizes, in his drunken haze, what sound logic that is. They are both there. It's very true. Sam's also nodding, but he's a little more dubious than Dean.

“But if one of us leaves,” Sam says, slow and thoughtful, “then both of us won't be here.”

He also has a good point, Dean decides. This is a very complex issue that deserves more tequila to effectively contemplate. Unfortunately for him but fortunately for his liver, Castiel's already finished off the bottle.

Castiel nods solemnly. “However, that is not the case.” He moves closer to Sam again, running a hand up his leg.

“So why should we...go with this?” Sam asks hesitantly.

“Because I said so,” Castiel returns, and for a moment Dean can see the commander of legions that he knows his friend to be. Then he sees the commander of legions kissing his brother again, open-mouthed and dirty, and something very dirtypervertedwrong tugs at the bottom of his gut in a very inappropriately wonderful way.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, watching as Sam's broad hand presses flat on Castiel's back, pulls him closer, pearly white teeth flashing as he bites at the angel's lower lip. Castiel's already shed his trenchcoat and blazer, and his tie is loose, his sleeves rolled up, and the muscles in his forearms tense and flex as he grips Sam's arm, then runs his hand down to his leg and over to his groin, pressing down and causing Sam to gasp sharply into his mouth. Dean feels a little light-headed, and the feeling only intensifies when Castiel looks away from Sam and fixes Dean with his heated gaze.

“Come here,” Castiel orders, and that sounds like a damn good idea. Dean says as much as he heads over, taking a seat on the other side of Castiel. Sam's flushed with pleasure, hips lifting up into Castiel's hand with tiny jerks. Castiel pulls Dean down for a slow kiss, and this one is much better than the first – although Dean finds himself wondering where, exactly, Castiel learned to kiss this well. Probably the pizza man. It feels like hours later that Castiel pulls back and mutters the command to take off his clothes.

It doesn't even occur to Dean to refuse. He strips out of his tee, his eye caught by Sam pulling his off as well. God, Sam's attractive, miles of tanned skin and muscle—except no, no he isn't, because he's his brother. His really hot brother.

Castiel runs his hand along the waistband of Sam's pants, the muscles tensing under his touch. “What shall I do with you two?” he muses aloud, brushing his lips over Dean's jaw.

“I thought the plan was sex,” Sam replies with a tiny shiver.

“Well obviously,” Dean retorts. “But there's lotsa things we can do, y'know.” He pauses. “We shouldn't do any of 'em. You're my brother and you're an angel so um...”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam and Castiel say in unison. Castiel turns to look at Sam, eyebrows raised.

“Do you have any ideas to make him stop talking?” he asks.

Sam ponders, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Dean's eye is drawn to where his pants shift lower, the white band of his boxer-briefs a stark contrast to the shadowy suggestion of dark hair. It's so distracting that he almost doesn't notice when Sam speaks again. “He could always...'know, like...suck your dick?”

Castiel looks critically at Dean, who grows warm under his gaze, especially as he looks hard at his lips. He feels scrutinized and ridiculously, irrationally, is terrified of coming up short.

“What?” he says finally, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He sways with the sudden gesture, thrown off balance, and Castiel grabs his upper arm to keep him from falling off the couch.

“If you think you can manage that without vomiting, I think it might be a good solution,” Castiel agrees. Phrased like that, like a challenge, Dean can't say no.

“Wait, hey, wait a second,” he interrupts as Castiel is sliding a hand in his hair to guide him down. “You just doin' this to shut me up or 'cause you want it?”

“Both,” Castiel replies firmly, and his hand tightens, pushing Dean down into his lap. Sam snorts in amusement, but his breath catches and his humor fades as Castiel does something to him that Dean can't see.

It's hard to undo Castiel's fly when it really looks like there are two of them, but Dean somehow manages, even with the incredibly distracting noises that Sam is making on the other side of Castiel. The angel's hand is heavy on the back of his head, but the weight is comforting in a way, reassuring, almost friendly. And it's not like Dean hasn't done this before. And Castiel is definitely hotter than the last guy he blew.

He pulls Castiel's cock out, nuzzling at it, taking in the hot and heady scent before licking at it. He fights down a giggle – this is totally absurd, sucking an angel's dick while his brother looks on. No, seriously, what the hell is he doing? Dean looks up at Castiel, seeking some kind of guidance, but then notes that he's a little busy kissing Sam again, his pale fingers wrapped around his brother's bare cock. He frowns.

“Hey, c'mon, don't ignore me,” he whines, flicking his tongue at the head, trying to get Castiel's attention. “Not fair.”

Castiel breaks the kiss slowly, turning to look down at Dean. “What ever happened to shutting up?”

“What ever happened to...you shutting up?” Dean grumbles. He flushes slightly and takes Castiel into his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye he can't help noticing the killer hand job his brother is getting. It's totally unfair, he reflects, as his own erection throbs, aching and neglected, in his jeans.

“He looks good like that,” Sam murmurs lowly, slightly muffled, most likely by Castiel's lips. Dean flips him off, but it's half-hearted, because to be honest he's pleased by the compliment, as twisted as it may be, especially since it's coming from his brother. And on that note, since when does Sam turn into a massive perv when he's drunk?

“He has very nice lips,” Castiel agrees. “And he's quite good at this. Do you have much experience in cocksucking, Dean?”

Dean pulls off slowly, letting the crown slide over his lower lip, left shiny from spit and precum. He's rewarded with a small gasp from Castiel and he smirks triumphantly. “Done it a few times, yeah,” he replies with a smug smile, then goes right back to giving the best damn blow job of his life, or at least it feels that way. Sure, he chokes a little on Castiel's cum, and some of it dribbles down his chin as he looks up at the other two men, and his throat hurts from trying too hard to deep-throat, but overall he's pretty satisfied with his performance.

He watches, then, as Castiel's long palm and slender fingers pump Sam's beautiful cock, watches as Sam's back bows and he comes hard with a low groan. Some lands on Dean's face, drips down his cheeks, and he feels so dirty it makes his heart clench painfully in his chest and his dick throb with pleasure, pressing tight against his fly.

“Jesus Christ,” he hears Sam breathe when he looks down at his older brother. Their eyes meet, and there's something in the air between them, hot and tense. There's an almost tangible shift in the mood in the room. It's not drunken fun any more. This is something more.

Castiel is silent, but he pulls Dean up for a kiss. It's open, dirty, flavored with a mix of cum. Dean can feel it cooling on his face, drying slowly, and can hear Sam in the background, still spouting soft swears. Castiel's thumb runs over Dean's cheek, smearing the semen, and Dean turns his head to catch it and suck it clean.

“Dean's turn,” Sam declares, standing and pulling Dean up with him. They stand there a moment, noses brushing, breathing the same air, and then Dean takes an abrupt step back.

“I...I don't need to,” he mutters.

“Yes you do,” Castiel insists hoarsely, pushing Dean towards the bed. It's hard to resist that commanding tone, and he doesn't even try, just falling back, his legs splayed wide, the skin on his face stiff and sticky. It feels a little gross, but he's distracted by Sam and Castiel kissing again. It's way hotter than it should be, watching his brother and friend make out, Castiel's hands fisted in Sam's hair, and then Castiel pulls back, looking down at Dean with an expression that sets his skin on fire. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling over Dean's leg. “Sam,” Castiel says as he holds out a hand to the younger brother.

Sam looks as stunned as Dean feels, and Dean assumes that he isn't the only one who was expecting Castiel to take care of him, without Sam's involvement. “What? 'Sam' what?”

“Come here.”

Sam reluctantly climbs onto the bed, and although it should have been as weird as it could get when he came on Dean's face, Dean feels a thousand times more awkward now, especially when he meets Sam's eyes, and then dimly hears Castiel ordering them to kiss.

Dean's about to refuse, maybe even tell Castiel to go fuck himself because seriously, that's sick, when his inebriated brother – he's definitely still drunk, no way would he do this sober, right? – leans down and presses their mouths softly together. His hands fly to either side of Sam's face, intending to push him away, but somehow he ends up...not. He ends up holding him closer instead, kissing him harder, sucking gently on his lower lip and gradually deepening the kiss while Castiel looks on. It's probably the dirtiest thing Dean's ever done in a long life of dirty things.

It gets even dirtier when he feels Sam's hot palm on his crotch – and he knows it's Sam's, because he's felt Castiel's, and this is heavier and larger and Jesus fuck Sam is palming his dick and there's nothing but cotton between them as they pant hot and wet into each other's mouths.

Then the soft damp of Sam's lips is gone, replaced by the rough dry of Castiel's, and the rasp of his stubble. “Just relax,” Castiel whispers. Like that's gonna happen.

He stops trying to keep track of who's touching him where and just enjoys, letting his eyes drift closed as he feels four hands dragging over his body, pulling down his fly and exposing his heated flesh to the cool air of the room. He doesn't hear Sam and Castiel conspiring, but all of a sudden there are two tongues on his cock and his hips are lifting up off the bed as he gasps loudly. He opens his eyes again, unable to resist, and is just in time to see Castiel take the head of his cock in his mouth while Sam mouths at the shaft.

Dean doesn't last long like that. He can't, not between the tequila and the two beautiful men sucking him off simul-fucking-taneously. He groans in pleasure and drops his head back against the pillow as he climaxes hard, filling Castiel's mouth, his fingers clenching in the sheets.

The three of them lie there for a time, spent, the world spinning around them, Sam sprawled on his stomach with his head about level with Dean's chest, Castiel on Dean's other side, on his back. Dean's almost asleep when Castiel speaks.

“I have work to do,” he says, voice hoarse and vaguely amused.

Dean just hums lazily, too tired to do anything, and Castiel is gone. Sam shifts closer, slinging one arm over Dean's waist, and as weird as it is to be cuddling with his over-grown brother, covered in his cum, something about it feels unsettlingly right.

“Castiel, you manipulative sonofabitch,” Dean mutters. When he falls asleep a few moments later, it's with his lips pressed against the top of Sam's head, his arms wrapped firmly around him – and it really isn't all that awkward at all.


End file.
